The Tremendous Turmoil of Indigo

Chapter 7

Pelvis grinding against pelvis as rushed, low moans bounced off the sedan's tinted windows. Indigo's teeth sunk into her bottom lip as Tate kneaded her plump breast and devoured the other with delicate determination. Her head lolled back as the arch in her back deepened with every thrust they timed in a unison they perfected over the years. Her short fingernails dug into the lean, toned flesh of his thigh but he paid no mind to the pain as his strokes intensified.

An electric current coursed under her smoldering skin produced quivers to her muscles only able to utter monosyllabic words. His manhood pulsated against every inch of her throbbing walls morphing her moans to whimpers hijacking her body with uncontrollable shivers as she reached her peak of pleasure. Tate exploded in her with a chortled grunt, eyes closed and head bared in her heaving chest no longer worried about the consequences—she was his wife. His woman. His home.

Indigo looped her arms around his neck, his dewy skin against her heated flesh. "Damn," she said breathily, still riding the tail end of her high. Eight years later, the sex was still good. Scrambled her mind, calmed her nerves, and brought elation to her soul.

Her brown eyes sparkled and a coy half smile tugged up her mouth, "Are you ready?"

"What?" Tate gazed at her a little dazed, his breath still heavy as he set his hands firmly on her hips, stilling her as she sat straddled on his lap. Her fidgeting was arousing him once more. "Don't you think we should wait just a little before the next round?"

"I'm not talking about that," She chuckled with a tap to his back as if he was supposed to know what she was talking about. "I'm talking about Monday. The lecture. Getting to meet your students." She ran her fingers through the damp, clumped tresses at the nape of his neck. "I'm excited for you."

His lips lifted as he huffed with a little humor, "This is where your mind goes right after you climax."

"I'm a multitasker, Tate." She rested her forehead against his with jovialness playing in her words. "You should know this by now."

"I do know but...work is the last thing I'm thinking about right now." He started rubbing her hips slowly and his gaze dropped to her breast full and on display. "The last thing I want to think about."

She latched her hand on his chin and lifted his face, "Focus, Tate. Focus."

"I am focusing." He twisted his neck, wrangling his chin out her grasp then pulled her body against his—his hard abs against her soft stomach. "On you." He said peppering kisses up her neck. He stopped at her parted lips. "It's not exciting for me. It's depressing. Nerve wrecking." He advanced his mouth towards hers. "Fucking my wife is my main concern."

She pulled her head back to ask, "What else concerns you?" She could feel a shift in his energy since leaving the art gallery but he'd put up a wall. A wall she was trying to break down brick by brick.

"What about I put you on your back..." His hands tightened around her waist. "Or your hands and knees?"

"Just answer the...ohhh." Her words silenced as she felt his shaft slide inside her slick core.

The garage light flicked on as small steps hit against the concrete, "Greer! I told you mama and daddy were home!" Thyme shouted, slapping her hands on the sedan window.

"Then where are they?" Greer asked, suited in Princess Tiana pajamas. "They aren't in their room."

"Maybe they went for a walk." Thyme's My Little Pony sleep set swallowed her frame as she gawked in the driver's side window, the tint too dark for her to see anything. "We should go check."

"The hell you won't!" Indigo shouted.

Thyme jumped away from the car, smacking her bottom on the ground with and humph. "Mama!" She squawked.